Sear
by Cinerari
Summary: Someone or something wants Yama dead. And though he swears to the contrary, all evidence appears to point to that something being his own mind.
1. Where There's Smoke

**I wasn't supposed to start this until Lucky 7 was done, but I was having writer's block with that one, and then suddenly the first chapter of this appeared. Whoops. It's basically Memento Mori again but with a character switch, and you know, not awful. I hope you like it alright.**

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It was the same dream again. Every night I watched it play out, unable to change anything. I'd seen it so many times I knew it was a dream from the moment Kei yelled that we were under attack.

"They've hit out ammunition storage on the port side!" Yattaran followed as always. "If that goes up, we're sunk."

"The automatic systems will take care of the fires," Harlock said from the helm. Even with the flurry of different alarms going off, he appeared calm. Ships and fighters swarmed around us on radar. It was a hopeless fight, the stuff of nightmares. Even as I sat there, knowing it was a dream, I still felt sick. My palms sweat in my gloves.

I hated sitting there, not doing anything. I was supposed to be helping out, though I couldn't think of how. The station I sat at wasn't mine. It never had been. But there I was, tapping my fingers and bouncing my knee as every bit of my body screamed for me to go where I belonged. I just didn't know where that was.

The battle seemed to fall apart in front of me, the bridge crew reduced to yelling every gut-wrenching update. I'd seen this nightmare play out dozens of times, enough to know something was coming. It was like a black, swirling cloud looming on the horizon. I wanted to wake up, though I couldn't remember why. For all the times I'd played my part in this dream, I couldn't recall its end.

"Third cannon's down," Kei said, fear creeping into her voice. "It's taken too much damage."

Harlock's grip tightened against the wheel before he tossed us into a sharp turn. I gripped the console to keep from tumbling out of my chair as we slammed into one of the ships. It felt like an earthquake. The ship rattled and screeched around us.

"Reroute power to the turrets and secondary cannon," Harlock commanded. "Someone tell me the status of our heating system. The gauge is reading too hot even for a battle."

I didn't need a gauge to tell me that. Despite the heat we sent out through each cannon blast, the bridge was sweltering. I felt like I was sitting in a pool of my own sweat, and everyone else's face shone with it.

"There must be some sort of malfunction," Yattaran hissed. "I can't get the automatic controls to respond. There are valves to release the heat manually, but they're in the energy control room. I'll get someone from engineering to-"

"I'll get it!" I cried, jumping to my feet. "Let me run down there!"

A dozen and one eyes all looked my way, narrowed under furrowed brows. I'd never seen the bridge crew so adamantly disapprove of me before, and I'd been outed as a traitor to them.

But this me felt different, wrong. I wasn't certain the eyes I looked through were mine. After all, I had vision in both in this dream, and I had no control over what I said or did. The whims of the dream led me.

As the crew's eyes held me, another hit tore through us. We held tight to whatever we could grab until the tremors of impact eased. "Take your communicator and run as fast as you can," Harlock barked my way as he righted himself. His eye blazed with fury, betraying his calm mask. He was getting desperate.

"Captain-!" Kei attempted, but I was already racing for the lift. She would try to stop me, and I couldn't allow that.

The main floor looked like Hell. Flames licked at the air from busted circuitry. I dipped and weaved around them, sprinting for the ship's bow. My lungs burned from the smoke and every gasping breath, but nothing slowed me down. I was flying.

The door to the main energy reactor appeared in a blink. I couldn't wait for it to slide open, slipping in once the crack was wide enough to sidle through. Once inside, a wall of heat greeted me. The temperature on the bridge was nothing compared to this. All around me, the air blurred and swam. I felt as though I was trying to breathe through a straw, sucking in quick gasps of the thinned air. A high-pitched scream emitted from the energy reactor, red-hot from trying to keep up with our demands.

Still, I ran. Mercifully, the energy control room felt a few degrees cooler, despite the pipes screaming like the reactor. I didn't frequent this room, but the valves were clear to me, shining red wheels sitting on the pipes. I grabbed one in each hand, the heat sharp even through my gloves. It was then I noticed the gloves were white for the first time, unlike the brown ones I always wore. Though it was my first time noticing in this dream, I realized I'd seen those white gloves so many times before. Then I remembered everything. As always, the white of those gloves was the trigger for the end.

I tried to run as the memories flooded my mind, but my hands kept turning the screeching wheels. My feet stayed planted. I couldn't even scream as the pipes erupted in front of me. Waves of fire rolled over my skin. My vision was nothing but white.

At least I could scream when I woke, and I always did. I cut off the yell as quickly as I could, jamming my knuckles between my teeth. My vision was black now as I took in the slight outlines of my room. The stars outside my window provided some light but not enough.

I wiped sweat from my face as I stood. It was no use. I was drenched. The back of my shirt was soaked through, sticking to my skin. Like a drunk, I stumbled to the light switch. The dehydration was always the worst of it. I needed water more than air.

After washing my face in my room's sink and downing enough water to make myself sick, I stripped my bed and headed to the washroom. I could have tried to go back to sleep, and I had tried many times. But even if I managed to fall back asleep, the dream returned. It was a good night when I could manage four hours of sleep.

After tossing my sheets in a washer, I stood in a long, cold shower. I wondered if the exhaustion might wash away if I stood there long enough.

It never did.

From there, I dressed and dumped my sheets in a dryer. The ship was a ghost town tonight. Some nights the men would stay up drinking, but now the endless halls seemed empty. With the lighting turned down to its lowest setting, every room had black holes for shadows. Being alone in the dark may have frightened me had I been fully conscious, but at that point I was too tired to care.

Occasionally I saw a glimpse of someone else sneaking around the halls along with me – Miime, I assumed. She never did sleep, but I only caught glimpses as she rounded a corner or a soft echo of footsteps. For all I knew, it could have been hallucinations from the lack of sleep. It was yet another thing I couldn't bring myself to be concerned about.

If nothing else, the endless quiet of the late night hours did give me time to work in my greenhouse without bother. At least, it was as much of a greenhouse as the makeshift lab could hope to be. Harlock allowed me to clean out the unused room and fill it with a miniature scale of my old greenhouses. I had so many rows of shelves and carts filled with sprouts that moving around the room was a game of balance and skill. One wrong move and a few dozen seedlings could come tumbling down. That was the reason I didn't usually allow for visitors.

That, and my incessant chatting with the plants. Mom said talking to the plants helped them grow, and maybe it did, but most of my haze of conversation now stemmed from a lack of sleep. I'd mutter endlessly to them about the dream and how much I hated washing my sheets all the time. The other men had taken notice of my trips to the washing room, and their tirade of crude jokes could not be stopped.

It was nice to be alone while I worked, away from all of them for a while. Being stuck in the cramped quarters of the ship with so many people could grate on my nerves at times. My plants were simpler company. Time passed me by while I checked chemical compositions and examined growing patterns. My poor plants appeared confused by the presence of dark matter, and their growing cycles were all over the place despite the sun lamps. It was something I'd spent weeks looking into.

My muttering on the evils of our generator was cut short when the door behind me slid open. I turned in my chair to find Harlock sidling around one of the stands. He appeared to think better of trying to traverse the rest and halted a few paces from the door.

"Morning," I said through a yawn.

He dipped his head in greeting, his arms crossed. "You missed breakfast again." He was never much for chit-chat.

I glanced at my monitor to find it was already past ten. As if my stomach had just noticed as well, a pang of hunger ate at my insides. "Huh," I said. "I'll make sure to get lunch." My body was so focused on the need for sleep that eating became a secondary concern. My eyes ached with exhaustion, and it must have been written clear across my face. I didn't have the energy to try hiding it.

"I know you're very invested in taking care of these plants, but you should allow yourself adequate sleep," Harlock said. "Exhaustion may damage your ability in a battle. You can't lead a raid team in that condition." His lectures were always calm. It was more like being patted on the head and told no than an actual scolding.

As he spoke, I let my arms drape over the back of the chair and rested my chin on the ridge. "I've just been having some trouble sleeping," I admitted. "Can't seem to stay asleep for long."

He gave a nod. "You may be having trouble adapting to the lack of proper sunlight. Being on a ship does confuse your circadian rhythm. It's not an uncommon issue."

"It's messing up the plants' sleep cycles too," I grumbled, reaching over to brush my finger down a protruding leaf. I didn't think the lack of sunlight was as much of an issue for me as it was for them.

A moment's confusion crossed Harlock's features before he continued. "The doctor does have sleeping pills. You may want to try them." He must have seen me cringe. "It doesn't have to be for long, just long enough to convince your body to rest."

"I just hate taking drugs," I sighed. After the explosion, Ezra and I seemed to live off whatever they pumped into our systems. As if the side effects weren't bad enough, I went through a slight withdrawal when I stopped taking the painkillers. I didn't want a repeat of that.

"I understand, but we need you ready and able in any situation. Preparation includes meals as well. Your plants are looking very nice, but don't kill yourself taking care of them." He offered me a smile that I twitchily returned. As he continued with something about the importance of my position on the ship and being a proper man, I found my eye glazing over. My shoulders drooped as I sank down in the chair. Every muscle seemed to relax on its own. All this talk of sleep was getting to me.

I saw Harlock's mouth moving, but I dozed along to the tune of his speech. When I first joined the crew, I thought he was the type who only spoke when it was absolutely necessary, but I found he would prattle on endlessly when given the right topic, with various metaphors thrown in for good measure.

"And that's why we're going to fly directly into the sun," he concluded.

I blinked, raising my head to stare at him.

Once again, a smile eased onto his face, his eye shining. Oh, it was a joke. It was still so strange to hear jokes from him. "Get some rest when you can, Yama," he said. "You can come by my cabin for drinks tonight if you'd like. The alcohol might knock you out."

The offer was tempting. I couldn't hold my alcohol worth a damn, and I'd probably embarrass myself in the process, but I was willing to try anything at this point. "I might," I sighed. "I still have some more tests to finish up for now."

He gave a final nod and slipped out with a lazy wave. I tossed my hand up in return, even if it was just to his back. Once the door closed behind him, I spun back around in my chair. It seemed the turn was too quick for my sleep-deprived eyes, as the whole room tilted and swirled for the span of a few blinks. I sighed as the blur dissipated. It seemed exhaustion had me feeling drunk now. The more I tapped away at my computer and rolled my chair to each plant's position, the more I seemed to be swimming through fog. I felt so heavy I was impressed my arms would still raise at my command. My head felt stuffed with cotton until a sharp ache shot through it. I needed to go lie down.

The pain in my head multiplied to a constant throbbing as I pulled myself to my feet, leaning on the nearest table. My legs wobbled beneath me, my breath coming in short gasps. I felt as though I had to drag thoughts to the front of my mind, but I knew well enough to understand something was wrong.

Staggering along the table's edge, I pulled myself to the door. I felt as though my bones turned to liquid, and my legs refused to hold me up as I slammed into the door. My shoulder now throbbed along with my head from the impact against the metal.

Strange. It should have opened on its own.

I managed to stay on my knees long enough to see the red light shining from the keypad. Someone had locked the door, a door that could only be locked from the inside. And someone other than me had locked it.

I found myself on the floor, black swirling at the edges of my vision. I seemed to be falling down an endless tunnel as my sight faded. Someone stepped up to my side and nudged a boot against my ribs. I tried to ask them for help, but I could only gasp for air. My hand drifted up toward their white glove. It was all I could see until my pinpricks of sight vanished altogether.

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 **Wow, I mutter sarcastically, I wonder who it could be.**


	2. Burning Bridges

**I just love everything about this fic. I don't even care.**

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No hangover could compete with the sheer pain pounding through my head. I felt as though my skull would split at any moment. My hand found my way to my face and clutched my temples. It was the only thing holding me together.

I felt hyperaware of every sound, even the slightest noise. The hum of the ship was no longer a comforting presence; instead, it sounded like a roar. Some sorts of machines pumped and hissed by my ears. An occasional beep was like lightning through my head. Even my own stuttering gasps for breath threatened to empty my churning stomach as the pain swelled.

I winced against someone saying my name. The tentative voice belonged to Kei, my abused mind informed me. I felt her hand press to my shoulder as she continued in a whisper. "I'm going to give you some pain medication, even if you don't deserve it, idiot."

I'd done something to upset her, I guessed, not that I could remember what. My memories felt like a puzzle with pieces missing.

As I forced my breathing to slow, I worked through anything I could recall that might have invoked her ire. I had missed breakfast. And now I was getting drugs in a noisy room, so the infirmary. If I was waking up in the infirmary, something had gone wrong. I was injured or sick.

"Did I pass out?" I breathed. With how exhausted I'd felt, I'd expected something like that might happen. In confirmation, Kei tugged at my ear.

"Of course you did," she hissed. "That's what happens when you fill an enclosed space with an asphyxiant. You almost died, Yama."

By brows pinched against my palm. "I did what?"

She heaved a sigh. "You don't remember. Of course you don't. You opened the valve on that ethylene canister and just left it open. The whole room reeked of the stuff, and you didn't even notice. God, Yama, I know the captain said you were out of it, but I thought you were more careful than that."

My hand flew from my face as I jerked upright. I ignored the rush of pain in my head as I grabbed Kei by the arms. "Ethylene?" I gasped. "No, no, it couldn't have been ethylene. I'm always careful with it. I swear! I never even used it today! I would know!"

She winced, either against my shouting or my crushing grip. With my chest heaving, I released her, my eye darting back and forth as I tried to recall ever touching the ethylene tank. I didn't even want the damn thing, but I needed it with the odd effects the dark matter had on the plants. I would never have been careless with it, not after what happened with the greenhouse.

Kei's hands appeared on my shoulders again, pressing me back. "Whoa there. Take it easy," she said. "Don't go hyperventilating on me. We just got you conscious again."

As she settled me back against the pillows, I limited myself to deep, harsh breaths through my nose until I felt steady enough to not slur my syllables. "I'm not the one who turned on the gas," I said. "It must have been someone else."

Kei patted my head with a soft sigh. "That's not possible, Yama. The tank valve was completely open. The whole thing would have emptied in about twenty minutes. Harlock said he didn't smell any gas when he went in, and unless you left at some point after that-"

"But someone locked the door!" I spluttered. "It was locked from the inside. I remember. The light was red, and I wouldn't have locked it."

She stared at me, baffled. "Yama, you're not making any sense. If the door was locked from the inside, you would have been in there when the other person did it, and they would have passed out too. Besides, the door was unlocked when I found you. You were just lying in front of it. I don't think you remember too well. You were completely deprived of oxygen."

I tried to explain, but words caught in my throat. I had no explanation. I hadn't done this to myself. Of course not. But Kei was right. I wasn't making any sense. Maybe I was remembering it wrong, what little I could remember. But I was always so careful with ethylene.

"But there was someone else there," I whispered, rubbing my fingers over my eye. "I swear there was someone there when I passed out."

"You were sleep deprived and asphyxiating," Kei murmured. "It's understandable that something could go wrong. We won't give you any grief for it. But the captain has ordered you to start taking these." She smacked something plastic onto my bedside table. I turned a wary eye that way, knowing what I would see but not wanting to.

I didn't need to read the handwritten label to know they were sleeping pills. "Captain says he won't let you return to your usual ship duties until you're well-rested," Kei explained. "That's his way of saying he's worried you'll get yourself hurt again." She offered a sympathetic smile, but I couldn't force myself to return the gesture.

"I'll try them out," I muttered. No nightmares assaulted me when I was half-dead from ethylene, so I hoped the drugs would have the same effect. "What time is it?" I asked as I took them from the table, holding the bottle over my eye. The lights overhead turned orange through it. "Did I miss lunch?"

"Afraid so, but dinner will be served in a couple hours, and we can go sneak a snack before then. I expected you to be out much longer with all that gas in your system, but what was it? Four hours? You sure didn't sleep long."

"Yeah," I sighed. "I never do."

I was happy to escape the infirmary until I started walking the halls. Everyone had at least one question for me, and their eyes all pinned me with curiosity. To escape them, I went back to my lab, but I found that far worse than any interrogation from my crewmates. The plants were an absolute mess. They'd been given too much ethylene too fast, and with that on top of their already-confused cycle, I doubted they would survive much longer. My heart sank as I read over my charts. I would need to start almost from scratch. Today was not my day.

Then again, I couldn't recall any day that had been.

More people tried to question me during dinner, but I didn't have the energy or patience. I dealt with their curious glances in silence and answered questions with blinks or nods. Harlock was nowhere to be found.

After I slipped away from the galley, I considered taking him up on that offer for drinks. But now that I had the pills, well, maybe that wasn't a good idea. Returning to my lab again was an option, but just ending the day early sounded preferable. I couldn't bring myself to deal with tossing out any of those plants tonight, not after all the work I put into raising them. Instead, I went and grabbed my long-cooled sheets from the dryer.

Returning to my room, I knocked back one of the pills and dropped myself face-first into a freshly-made bed. Maybe if I thought about things other than the dream, I would sleep well tonight. All I needed to do was remember something better, something relaxing.

Instead, my thoughts wandered like a bee buzzing aimlessly through my head. By the time sleep took over, my head was muddled with smears of thoughts. And once again, I found myself on the bridge, scared and sweating.

I went through the usual roll call. Kei nervous, Yattaran contemplative, and Harlock difficult to read. They gave their lines as though this was a play I watched each night. My lines came to me with ease, though I couldn't recall them beforehand.

"I'll get it!" I yelled on cue, so desperate to prove myself, to do something other than sit there. "Let me run down there!"

I wished, for once, Harlock might say no, or Kei might argue against it fast enough. As always, my wishes did nothing. Once again, I went down the lift to the main hall. Once again, I ran to the energy control room. And once again, fear and despair pooled in my gut. Something was coming, something horrible. I couldn't scream or move away from it. I was a prisoner in my dreams, forced to see them through to the end.

And the end came with those white gloves on the red valves.

I remembered.

I wished I hadn't.

An explosion of blinding heat erupted from the pipes. I couldn't see anything but white, but I could feel everything. Shards of red-hot metal jammed through my shoulder as my back found the wall. More of the metal ate into my left cheek and eye.

I waited to scream, to wake up in my room as always.

This wasn't right. The explosion was supposed to kill the dream just as it killed my form within it. I found myself able to open my working eye. The room was ablaze around me, the shattered metal melting in front of me. I couldn't see my left side, but my attempts to move confirmed my worst fear. Pain tore through my shoulder at the action, the metal pinning me to the wall. Instead of a scream, I only managed a whimpered cry. Along with my shoulder, the left side of my face was melting. As I clawed away the pain, the fingertips of my gloves burned through. Blistered red fingertips shone in the firelight, but I couldn't feel that pain. The rest was too much. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think.

"H-help," I choked. "Oh God, please help." Even with the room melting around me, my tears still felt hot as they rolled down my cheek. Only my right eye would cry for me.

I managed to press my fingers to the communicator in my ear, but I couldn't find the right words. I could only feel the pain from my wounds, the way hot air hissed freely between my teeth and my gored cheek. "Please," I whispered in what was left of my bruised voice. "I don't… I can't… Captain."

I felt myself relaxing against the wall, as though I could fall into it, away from all of this. There wouldn't be any more pain if I just let go. I urged myself to give in, but my traitorous body continued fighting.

"I don't…want to die," I murmured into the crackling air. "Please…"

I was so hot I felt cold. My entire body was numb with it, that sickening cold. I thought, maybe, I heard a door open, but it was all so far away.

I didn't scream when I woke. I jolted upright in silence. The warmth of tears stained my cheek along with the usual sweat. My gaze drifted toward my bedside clock to find I was awake just in time for breakfast. I felt a laugh bubbling in my throat, but it came out as a wheeze.

At least I didn't feel as tired as usual as I went through my new morning routine. Even if I literally had to go through hellfire, I'd been allowed a full-night's sleep. I couldn't say the sleeping pills didn't work.

Breakfast was standard, everyone grumbling "morning" around the rims of their coffee mugs. I felt myself answering them with a nod, my mind elsewhere. Despite getting onto me for missing breakfast, Harlock wasn't to be found there either. I rarely saw him in the galley at all.

As I stepped onto the bridge, I heard his voice from the throne. "How did you sleep?"

I bit my tongue against complete honesty. He didn't need to know I bolted out of bed every night like a little kid with nightmares. "I slept," I answered instead.

His eye appraised me as I stepped into view. I looked back, my arms crossed. This was all his fault. "Is that a bad thing?" he asked.

I gave a soft huff, turning my head away. "No, it's fine."

"You know you don't have to hide anything from me."

"I'm not." But I couldn't look at him. I'd always had skill at lying through my teeth, but Harlock could see through me in an instant. I wasn't sure why I bothered.

"Very well. Take your station as you like."

Once I took my seat, things were normal. Miime lounged in someone else's seat, staring at the stars ahead of us and sipping a bottle of alcohol. I almost asked her if she wandered the halls at night, but the other men began to file in. Of course, it was best not to disturb the normalcy of it all.

It was best to ignore the glimpses of a green uniform I saw walking ahead of me in the halls, even when I left Miime behind on the bridge, even when the hall ahead was empty once I turned the corner. It was best to ignore the strange laughter bubbling out from the empty computer room, best to ignore the glowing cat eyes that sometimes shone my way from the end of a darkened hall.

Above all else, I had to ignore the flashes of someone behind me when I looked in my room's mirror. There was no one there when I turned around because there was no one there at all.

I was just imagining all of it.

It was the pills.

Or I was still tired.

Of course.

But along with the hallucinations came that dream every night, played out in full. It was too much. My gut constantly rolled and twisted with anxiety. Along with the nightly sweating, I broke out in cold sweats each time I glimpsed something that wasn't there.

And every day Harlock asked how I slept. And every day lying became more and more difficult, until he looked at me with concern. Still, he never pressed me for an explanation. Perhaps because of that, I found myself knocking at his door. I didn't care if he was asleep like everyone else. I had to talk to someone. Now the dark halls of the night did terrify me. My hand shook as it remained raised toward the door, my heart pounding in my chest.

Just as I was about to bolt back to my room, the door opened. Harlock blinked down at me, though he didn't look surprised. He wore a t-shirt and cloth pants like me, though his were all black. I expected nothing less from him.

"Yama," he greeted.

"Uh, hello." I had no plans for what to say. I could only stare and wait for my mouth to work.

A smile graced his features for a moment as he placed his hand on my shoulder and nudged me inside. Once he had me through the door, he closed it behind me. Still, I only stood there. My face burned with my frustrations.

"Come here," he said, turning toward his table. I trailed after him without thought.

"Sit down."

I dropped myself in the chair he pulled out for me. He pulled the one beside it out to face mine but grabbed two wine glasses and a bottle from a cabinet before returning to sit.

It took watching the red fill the glass in front of me to switch my brain back on. "I shouldn't drink that before I take my pill," I said.

"One glass," he retorted.

I could have refused, and yet I couldn't. I took the glass and sipped it. The warmth of it eased the twisting in my stomach. Harlock seemed more interested in his own glass than me. I took no issue with that.

"Hope I didn't wake you," I muttered.

He shook his head. "It's no matter if you do."

It seemed he wasn't going to ask. Any normal person would want to know why I'd showed up in their room in the middle of the night, but this was Harlock.

"I've been seeing things," I blurted out as he knocked back the last of his drink.

"Is that right?" he asked, grabbing the bottle to pour himself another. "What sorts of things?"

I would have preferred some sort of feedback, shock or irritation or happiness – anything. His calm was mind-numbingly frustrating.

"Like, I don't know," I huffed, "glimpses of things. People in the halls who aren't supposed to be there, who aren't there. Weird images. Just flashes of things, and sounds. But none of it's really there. I think I'm losing it."

"Hm." He rested his cheek against his knuckles. "Sounds on their own? That's a new one."

I wasn't sure what to make of that. It was only then I noticed he'd refilled my glass as I'd been drinking it. "So this has happened before?" I grumbled. "People just start hallucinating?"

A smile tugged at his lips. "I'd like to give you a proper explanation, but I'm afraid I don't have one. I don't know if I'd call them hallucinations, per say, but you're certainly not the first to see these sorts of things. Our best guess is that the dark matter energy traps moments in time, just the smallest fragments. Occasionally, it replays these moments at whatever whims it possesses. I've heard stories of many 'ghosts'. But they're always short, harmless things, blink and you miss them."

Relief and wine warmed through my chest. Breathing came easier. "Have you ever seen one?" I asked.

"I can't say I have." His words were soft with disappointment. "I may be a different case. The dark matter is different for me."

"Maybe," I breathed. With my anxieties dissipated, fresh exhaustion overpowered me. "Well, thanks." I set down my half-empty wine glass and stood. "This was…a good talk."

His shoulders bounced with a silent laugh. "Get some rest, Yama. But tell me more about these ghosts of yours sometime. They do interest me."

"Sure, captain," I answered with a lazy wave over my shoulder. I was certain he waved back.

The walk back to my room was a breeze. Despite my exhaustion, confidence surged through me. I felt no fear toward the dark, though thoughts of the dream still ate away at my nerves. Maybe tonight I could be free of it. Maybe tonight, with my other fears banished, I would be safe.

I ran my fingers through my hair as I stepped into my room, breathing a sigh. I still wanted nothing to do with those pills, but I forced myself to my sink, where they sat. As I popped off the cap, I caught my own eye in the mirror, rimmed in dark smears of purple. Even with sleep, I looked dead.

I blinked, and there it was again, another brown eye slightly behind me. But it wasn't there. It wasn't real. I spun around to prove it to myself, to make it disappear as it always did.

The eye remained, mirrored to my own. But my gaze was drawn to the melted, mutilated burn where the other eye should have been. It was nothing but a weeping, twisted mess of scarred flesh. Below it, teeth shone white through a gaping hole in his cheek. My heart pulsed as though someone had reached in my chest and squeezed it. It was all framed by dirty blond hair - the face of a mere child.

His uniform mirrored Miime's in teal, black boots hovering almost a foot from the ground. Another gaping wound pierced his shoulder, blackened around the edges but clean all the way through. I could see the back wall of the room through it. My stomach churned once again, my heart pounding in my throat. It seemed the only thing keeping me from puking was my inability to move.

The loathing in his eye faded to surprise. We simply stared wide-eyed at each other until he slowly parted his lips. "Can you see me?" he asked at length.

Another cold sweat broke out across my skin as the blood drained from my face. This wasn't happening. It was another dream. It wasn't real.

"What?" I wheezed.

His nose crinkled, lips curled toward a snarl. "This is my room, you know," he snapped, stabbing a gloved hand to his chest. "I don't want you in it."

"Wh…what?" My breaths came in more sharp wheezes.

He huffed a breath through his nose, and with another blink, he was gone.

My legs fell out from under me, and I stumbled back into the sink. I couldn't get those burns out of my head, or those gloves – those damning white leather gloves on his hands, the tips of the fingers burned away.

* * *

 **Screeches. I haven't written Daiba in forever. I'm just so happy to finally write him again.**


	3. Shock and Awe

**Finally, an actual update. I stayed up all night finishing this, so let's get on with it.**

* * *

I didn't sleep.

I couldn't even turn out the lights. Seated on the edge of my bed, I spent the whole night darting my eye toward every sound. The image of that boy was burned into my head. If my eye fell shut for an instant, I could see the mutilated skin of his face, the way the hole in his cheek twisted as he scowled at me.

He wasn't real. He couldn't be real.

But I wasn't going to chance falling asleep if he came back.

My heart fluttered through the night, and dizziness made my head swim as morning arrived. Once the other men began to mill around the halls, I knew I was safe again. I joined them, finding comfort in the presence of others. They were real. They would keep the hallucinations away.

In the galley, my appetite only allowed me coffee, watered down by enough sugar to force myself to remain conscious. I responded to any acknowledgement from the others with a smile or nod, unsure my voice would remain steady for me. As always, Harlock wasn't there. I found him on the bridge, his brow furrowed at the sight of me.

"Yama, did you sleep?" he asked.

A pause held the air as I forced my mind into motion. I needed to answer somehow, at least with a no. I needed to say…something.

Instead I found myself staring at him like a child caught breaking the rules. His expression was an unreadable mix of emotions. "Did you take your medication?" he asked.

After begging myself to give some reasonable answer, I managed a noncommittal hum. It wasn't quite what I'd intended. "I'll be okay," I whispered more than said. "I just had a rough night was all. It's fine. Tonight will be better."

"You don't have to be at your station like this," he said. "It might be better if you're not."

He could scold or yell at me all he wanted, not that Harlock was the type to yell, but I couldn't go back to being alone. I needed to be around everyone for a while, to remind myself I hadn't lost it completely. Seven hours of jumping at every groan of the ship left me feeling like a bunch of frayed wires.

"It's fine," I said again as I dropped into my chair.

"Very well," he said to my back. "But if anything happens, I won't allow you to lead a team in your condition."

That was fair, and many of the crew didn't appreciate one of the youngest men on the crew leading them anyway. I tended to receive complaints at even the smallest of mistakes.

"Are you sure you're alright, Yama?" Harlock asked.

I blinked at the endless feed of readings on my console. Maybe now was the time to be honest, but maybe I would get better. There was no reason to cause any worry if all my problems would go away on their own.

Before I could answer, Kei strode in from the lift, stretching the kinks from her back. It felt like the perfect excuse to not respond to Harlock at all. "Morning," Kei said. I turned to find her glancing between the two of us, brows raised. "Yama, you look like Hell."

I wondered how it could be that obvious, and I rubbed my hands over my face like I could wipe away whatever looked off. Kei said nothing else on the matter, striding over to her station. "We're in empty space for now," she said as she dropped into her chair. "It's unlikely we'll run into anyone in the next few days, not that we haven't run into an army in the middle of nowhere before." She heaved a sigh, shaking her head. "But we will need to stop to resupply on food soon. Masu is getting antsy."

A flicker of a smile crossed Harlock's face. "Of course. I'll plot out a map of possible landing sites for us. I believe Tabito is nearby, so that may be our best option."

While Kei grew excited about some sort of tea they had there or something, I allowed myself to cross my arms on my console and use them as a pillow. I wasn't going to fall asleep, not after four cups of coffee and with the rest of the men filing in to join the chatter. It was too noisy to sleep. I was too wired on caffeine.

Then the dream started up again. Somehow, it felt more lifelike than ever before. The heat ate away at me, the fear clear in everyone's eyes. Running seared through my lungs like a red-hot knife. Mercifully, this one ended with the explosion. I didn't have to suffer the true pain of a slow death; instead, I jolted awake in my chair with a stuttered gasp, my entire body trembling.

Silence gripped the air, and for a moment I hoped everyone had gone to lunch. But as I forced my eye to scan the room, I found every member of the bridge crew staring back. Their reactions ranged from confusion to amusement. Kei looked concerned and perhaps a bit irritated if her frown was any sign. Harlock remained as difficult to read as ever, his sharpened eye the only indication that he might feel anything.

With my heart hammering in my chest and sweat slick across my face, I sat there in silent panic. Adrenaline rushed through my veins, telling me to bolt to the lift and not look back. All at once, I wanted to throw up and hide under my station. I looked so stupid to them, jolting awake from some stupid nightmare. I should have never let myself fall asleep. Stupid. Stupid.

"Yama." I jolted against the sound of my name, smooth as still water. Miime, the most difficult to read of all, strode my way as though walking on air. But something about her approach made my blood roar in my ears. She seemed to see too much of me with those glassy eyes. I swore she could read every lie I'd ever told. As she reached out for me, I almost fell from my chair in an attempt to get away.

"Relax," she said. "It was only a dream."

I stumbled to my feet, still itching to run for the door. Maybe she was right. Maybe it was all just a dream, and I really was losing my mind. I didn't know if that was a better option than that ghost boy being real.

"It's fine, kid," one man said with a shrug. "We all get nightmares every now and then."

"PTSD comes with the territory," Kei sighed. "You can talk about it if you want. We won't make fun of you."

But that was the absolute last thing I wanted. "No," I said, taking a step back. Miime's endless eyes continued boring into me. "I just-" Again, the door out screamed for my attention. "It's nothing. I'll be back." I forced myself not to run for the lift as all their stares stabbed into my back. It didn't matter where I went as long as I was away from them.

Sweat began to cool against my skin, slick and grimy like grease. As soon as I dragged myself off the lift, my feet directed me toward the showers. I didn't mind walking back to my room in a towel as long as I could feel clean.

With my fear and adrenaline wearing off, exhaustion hit me like I'd run into a wall. The only thing driving me was the thought of the icy shower water running through my hair. It was almost enough to keep me from stopping when a flash of green caught the corner of my eye.

I shouldn't have hesitated, but part of me wanted some assurance that no one was in the branching hall I'd passed. As my pulse sped up once again, rattling my breathing, I took two slow steps back. The hall led directly back to my room, and standing there was that impossible boy.

He looked the same as he had the night before, a scowl on his twisted face. This time he'd planted his feet, making him only tall enough to reach my chin. He stood with his arms crossed, his chest puffed out as though to size me up.

But he wasn't real. No. He couldn't be real.

I would prove it to myself, and then there would be nothing to fear.

"You're no pirate," he hissed. "You're just some coward traitor. I don't care if they think you're safe to be around now. I know you're not. I won't let you hurt them again."

I refused to respond, refused to acknowledge he'd said a word. Tugging one glove off, I closed the gap between us in three steps.

He wasn't real. I would prove it.

With one swipe of my hand, I waited for him to dissipate, to feel nothing but air. I didn't expect to feel the back of my hand connect solidly with the hole on his cheek. A slap echoed through the hall as he staggered to the side. I felt the shock on his face mirrored by my own. He clutched his cheek as I clutched my hand. It felt too real, the smooth yet jagged skin and the sharp ridges of his teeth.

I couldn't breathe. I felt like I was back in the dream, a blistering heat pressing down on me.

"What the hell?" he spat as his wild eye tore into me. A feral rage seemed to have taken hold, as though he wanted to rip me to pieces. "I'll get rid of you this time for sure," he snarled.

He vanished before I could run. No matter the embarrassment, I needed to be around someone else. As long as I was with someone sane, they would ward off whatever was wrong with me. I just needed contact.

As I turned, I heard something tearing and sparking at my back. The lights flickered overhead, and the boy appeared in front of me. My hand went for my gun on instinct, but a hard shove against my chest smashed my back into the wall. The sharpness of frayed wiring brushed the back of my bare hand.

Every muscle in my body tensed against my will against the sudden onslaught of pain. It was like razor wire cutting me apart from the inside. I couldn't see or think. There was only the overwhelming pain.

It felt endless. Just as I realized I was going to die, the sharpness of the pain cut off. At some point, I'd fallen to the floor. My body was still paralyzed, but I wouldn't have moved if my limbs allowed it. The coolness of the metal was soothing against my cheek despite the echoes of pain jolting through me.

If my eyes were open, there was nothing to see but an empty blackness.

"Ah, I'm sorry. I'm really sorry," someone said above me. I didn't recognize the voice, somewhat high and nervous. The stranger pet my hair with a careful, fidgeting hand. "I've got help coming for you," he breathed. "You're going to be alright."

He continued on with nice, comforting lies as the pain ebbed away along with my grasp on consciousness.

Perhaps I slept, though it felt as though I simply didn't exist for a while. The waking world reappeared with the blinding white lights of the infirmary overhead. Pain rocketed through my bones, dragging a gasp from me.

"Try to relax," Miime's silken voice murmured. Thin, pale fingers laced through my bangs and pressed to my forehead. They were as cool as ice, helping me ease the tension from my joints. The pain remained as a dull throbbing, threatening to take over at any moment.

"The doctor said you did not like pain medication, so you are on a simple drip, though it is not very effective."

I heard the heels of Harlock's boots hitting the floor before his voice joined Miime's. "We can give you something stronger if you'll agree to it." He appeared at my side, opposite Miime. The concern in his eye almost made me give in. Tempting as the offer was, I decided I was on enough drugs for now.

Trying to speak showed my voice to be ragged with pain, little more than a whisper. "What… What are you doing here?" I asked. It didn't seem like the right question, but thoughts drifted away from me before I could fully grasp them.

"I'm not allowed to check on my ailing crewman?" His smile seemed forced.

"I informed him you might wake," Miime said. "He wished to ask about what occurred."

I was still asking myself that. "I-I don't know. I fell, and then…" Then there was pure agony.

"You fell?" There was no doubt in Harlock's tone, merely confusion.

The only answers I could give were impossible ones, so I remained silent.

"It seems there were some damaged electrical wires," he began with a sigh. "The panel concealing them was opened, and those were what you fell into. It seems your contact short-circuited the power to the lights. That's the engineers' best guess, at least. The power went out, so we all wandered into the halls to see what was wrong. Someone found- Well, they tripped over you just before the lights came back on." He offered a more genuine smile before his gaze softened. "We aren't sure why that panel was open. We aren't sure why the wires were damaged in the first place. If you have any information at all, it doesn't have to leave this room."

I felt as though I'd been punched in the gut. They thought I'd done it to myself. It was just like the gas leak, and once again, I had no explanation. If I told them about the boy they would think I'd lost my mind, but without any other explanation, they would believe I was suicidal.

I shot up, reaching out to grab Harlock. I needed to let him know I was alright, even if it was a lie. They couldn't go on thinking I wanted to die when it was so far from the truth. Before I could grasp a piece of his collar, pain ripped me apart. Black spots in my vision grew to a black wall.

Once again, I lost time in nonexistence. Reality swam back with Harlock's arm around my shoulders, holding me upright. I felt a curious moment of déjà vu as Miime pet my hair, breathing soothing words to me.

"I didn't do it to myself, Captain," I said between soft gasps for air. "Please believe me."

"It's alright, Yama," he said, though he didn't sound certain. "We'll figure things out."

"The shock traveled through your arm and down your legs," Miime said. "It avoided your heart, so you will recover with minimal scaring from the burns, but you must not strain yourself for now."

I held my breath as Harlock lowered me back to the pillow. Dull flares of pain burned in my limbs, but my vision remained clear enough to see the cat that hopped up onto the foot of my bed. Harlock glanced toward the cat as I watched it, but he turned back as though nothing was out of the ordinary.

"We'll let you rest for a while," he said. I blinked at the sight of a second cat hopping up to join the first. They were both brown tabbies, small and a bit scruffy.

"Where did the cats come from?" I asked.

Harlock and Miime exchanged glances over me as third cat appeared.

"There are so many," I slurred. "How many cats do we have?"

"I thought it wasn't a very powerful drug," Harlock muttered.

"It is not," Miime answered, "but perhaps the lack of sleep combined with it is getting to him."

The pressure of their paws pressed into the blankets around me as they padded up by my side. A fourth hopped up, and each one found a spot on top of me, nestling into a ball.

"Yama," Harlock called, drawing my attention from them. "If you ever wish to talk about anything, remember you can always come to me. For now, just get some sleep."

I almost told him then. The dreams and the boy from them rested on the tip of my tongue, but I felt impossibly heavy. Forming words into phrases became a monumental task. As the cats each began purring, I gave in to sleep once again.

I dreamt of many things and yet nothing in particular, the soft rumble of purring echoing in the back of my mind.

* * *

 **This chapter contains all my favorite things: boys in pain, murderous Daiba, Harlock worried, and Kei being so done with boys. Truly, a masterpiece.**


	4. Break the Ice

**Gosh it's been five months since I updated this fic. School and work are kicking my ass as usual, but hopefully I can get the next update out sooner. Sigh sigh.**

* * *

Kei lay back across the bed and my legs, just as oblivious to the cat as the others had been. I would have written the cats off as a hallucination had one not remained with me when I woke up. He lounged in my lap, his front legs outstretched. The endless purring made me want to sleep again.

Kei had greeted me when she walked in before plopping down and staring at the ceiling in silence. My legs fit into the small of her back, but it couldn't have been comfortable.

"You have a knack for landing yourself in the infirmary," she said just as I thought she'd never speak.

This line of conversation wasn't dangerous yet, so I smiled and gave an easy answer. "You're not the first person to tell me that. Been falling out of trees and stuff since I was a kid."

She nodded, her gaze still fixated on the tiles overhead. Notes of sympathy touched her calm voice. "Did you have a lot of nightmares when you were young too? I've always had them."

"Maybe," I said, squishing the pink pads of the cat's outstretched foot. "I usually don't remember my dreams." It wasn't quite a lie, not exactly.

"Yeah," she sighed. "I don't like to talk about my dreams either."

If even Kei could see through my lies now, I needed some work.

"And anyway-" She raised a hand and brushed away the conversation. "I'm no psychiatrist, so I'm not going to sit and examine you. But you've got to tell me about the ghosts, okay?" As she looked my way, her eyes shone with the sort of mischief a little kid would have from the promise of ghost story. "The captain said you'd seen some."

"The captain needs to know when to keep his mouth shut," I grumbled.

Kei shrugged. "They're not really some big secret. I've seen one, I think." She scrunched her face as she considered it. "It happened so fast during a fight, so I'm not sure. Didn't get a good look at him. But the captain probably mentioned it to me because he was worried. Of course, he wouldn't admit it. He doesn't like to be superstitious."

"So are they real ghosts?" I asked. The captain didn't seem like the type to lie just to make me feel better, but my ghost, well, he must have been real in some way.

Kei's brow furrowed as she considered it. "I guess it depends on what you consider a ghost. I think they're just snapshots like the captain, and I don't believe in that made-up legend like some of the guys, though you're doing your damndest to prove them right."

"What legend?"

"Oh, you know." She waved her hand in the air as though lazily conducting. "If you can see the ghosts, you're close to death, or something like that. It's nonsense."

It sounded like the sort of thing schoolkids would make up, but maybe it wasn't seeing the ghosts that brought death. Maybe it was the ghosts themselves.

I couldn't see why the captain or Kei would want to know about the ghosts I saw. Kei's interest seemed to stem from curiosity, but Harlock would have known anyone I described. He'd known everyone who lived on this ship. Dredging up those old memories seemed like nothing but pain.

"Hey," Kei called. "No need to look so upset. It really is just an old made-up story. You're just prone to bad luck is all."

"Yeah," I sighed. The cat stood and stretched its back in an arch, only to plop back down. He stared at Kei as she looked up at me. "Did the ship ever have any cats?" I asked.

"Cats? Have you been seeing cats?" She sat up, drawing her knees in. "From what I've heard, the doctor usually has a cat. He had one when I first got here, but the poor little thing was old. That was Mii-kun. Actually," She cocked her head, "I think they were all Mii-kun. The older guys say he'll probably get a new one. Can't turn down a stray."

"I've seen a few," I admitted. "They're all tabbies."

She nodded. "Must be Mii-kun then."

So the ghosts had some credibility. They weren't entirely delusions, which was probably a good thing. I wasn't really sure.

"Other than that, I guess I've only seen one person." I hesitated, even as she leaned in with eager eyes. If I wasn't delusional, then she knew that boy. Maybe she didn't really want to know, didn't want to be reminded. If I made up someone else, she wouldn't know the difference.

But then I'd never know if the boy was real, if the dream was real.

"He's young, maybe fifteen. He's got this fluffy, blond hair."

Even though she hadn't spoken a word, she seemed to go silent. She no longer seemed to see me. Her shoulders went slack. I waited for her to stop me, but she remained listless.

"His uniform is teal, I guess," I continued. "He's really short."

"Where did you see him?" she asked, her voice empty.

"In the halls a couple times, just walking." Not quite a lie, not exactly. "Do you…know-"

She turned on me like the lash of a whip, her eyes iced over. "I don't want to talk about this," she snapped. And then she was gone, storming from the room. The cat hopped down from the bed and trotted after her.

I didn't know what to feel, maybe guilty or irritated. She had asked to hear about the ghosts, but I could have lied. I could have said no. All I knew now was that the boy was real. If she reacted like that, he meant something. But I didn't know how to feel about that either. I only knew I felt tired.

I dreamed in shades of red and orange. The blazing fire consumed everything until a hand gripped my shoulder, wrenching me from the nightmare before I could burn too.

"Jeez," I heard the doctor say somewhere behind my wheezing breaths and pounding heart. "That must be some dream. I thought your heart monitor was on the fritz."

He gave me a glass of water, then another. I drank until I felt sick and collapsed back onto my pillow.

"So that's where the insomnia was coming from?" he asked.

I nodded, feeling more exhausted than before I'd fallen asleep.

"Ah, I see. It's understandable then."

I wished it were as simple as just a nightmare or just insomnia. Those things were understandable.

"How much longer do you want me to keep you company?" I asked through a plastic smile. I didn't want him pressing me further.

"Oh, I suppose you can head out tomorrow. Just take things easy. Those burns are still healing, and I'll need to check on them every few days to ensure they're all clean and healing properly. I'm sure you'd like to avoid any scarring." He gave me the sort of warning glare I often saw him give the captain.

I mimed an X over my heart for him. After spending time in the burn ward, I knew better than to play around with the healing process.

"But go ahead and spend the rest of the night here," the doctor said. "I could give you a sedative if you'd like."

He was kind enough not to pressure me after I turned him down. Maybe the drugs would have helped, or maybe they would have made the dream more vivid and painful. For some minutes or hours, I lay there debating the merits of sleep, until I gave in and closed my eye.

This time I didn't dream at all because I didn't sleep at all. I jolted awake from a doze as the door slid open, and the heels of boots stomped across the floor. Kei slumped across my legs once again, her face buried in the blankets. Her arms hung over one side of the bed, while her legs stretched out from the other.

"Kei?" I called, fighting to keep my eye open.

She turned to rest on her cheek, and I found her eyes red and puffy from tears. Her nose shone pink, her lips trembling as she spoke. "Yama," she whimpered. "I miss him."

It took me a moment to decipher her words around her slur. "Have you been drinking?" I asked. I'd seen her drink before, but if she ever got drunk, I'd never seen it. I was too much of a lightweight to see many others drunk.

"I miss him!" she howled. "Why does no one else care!? Why doesn't anyone else get drunk for him?" Fresh tears spilled from her eyes and traced her cheeks. She pushed herself up and looked to me for answers I didn't have.

Rubbing the sleep from my face, I tried to make sense of her words. I found it difficult enough to line them up in my head. "Who are you talking about?"

In one broken sigh, all the fight left her. An invisible weight dropped her shoulders, and her gaze fell to her hands. "He was like my little brother," she said. "The captain just showed up one day with him, this scrawny little kid with the worst temper you've ever seen."

Understanding came to me like a blow to the gut. I placed a hand over hers, knowing there was nothing I could do to help. "Is he the one I saw?" I asked. Of course he was – the boy with the temper. My bringing him up had led her to this.

"His name was Tadashi Daiba," she whispered, before biting her bottom lip. I knew she did it to hold back more tears and sobs. I'd done the same many times. "It feels weird to say his name. No one's said it in so long. No one ever talks about him. It's like he was never here at all to them."

I wanted to tell her that he was still here, some temperamental kid who wanted me dead. But she couldn't see him. Even if she did believe me, they couldn't interact or reunite. He was a ghost to me and nothing to her.

She raised her gaze to meet mine. The emptiness of loss echoed in those blue eyes, and I knew her pain for an instant. A flicker of some old smile fought its way to her lips. "We always joked that the captain had adopted Daiba, or maybe Daiba adopted him, but they were so close. I thought the captain loved that kid. Always had a soft spot for kids."

She dropped her forehead to my shoulder, her own trembling. I could do nothing but put my arms around her and wish I'd never said a word about that boy. "But the captain didn't care," she spat with such anger and raw grief that a sob tore through her. "We just went and picked you up the next week like Daiba was nothing. The guys said you were the same, 'another little brother for Kei,'" she mocked. Even as she huddled against me, she seemed to hate me, and I could only think it fair. I deserved it.

"But you're nothing alike," she gasped. Sobs overtook her, until I could barely decipher her staggered words. "Oh, he's gone, my little brother. I should have stopped him. I could have stopped him."

"There was nothing you could have done," I breathed. "He wouldn't have let you stop him. He wanted to go."

She was drunk, and I was exhausted, and we both said too much. But no matter what I said, she only cried. I should never have said anything at all.

* * *

Not much could keep the nightmare at bay. Almost dying had proven itself to be one sure-fire way, and having all four cats lounging on me was another. One or two cats dulled the pain and blurred the images, but I could never seem to find all four when I wanted them, and I refused to go anywhere on the ship without someone nearby, so I couldn't run around searching for them. This left me with one last method, one I wished I'd discovered sooner.

I just needed to get absolutely hammered.

The first time was an accident. Harlock and I were the last ones on the bridge at the end of the day, and walking back to my room alone sounded like a death sentence. If that boy showed up again, I doubted my luck would hold. I hadn't seen him since the electrocution, but I wasn't going to take any chances.

"Captain," I said as he stood to leave. "Would you mind if we had that drink tonight?"

He gave a nod. "As you'd like."

Despite how many glasses of wine I downed, he asked no questions about my medication or my state of mind. He made no comment when I refilled my glass for a fifth time or a seventh. In fact, there was little conversation at all, and it seemed all I could do was drink.

So I drank until the room felt like an oven and the edges of my vision blurred. If I said anything strange to Harlock, I couldn't remember. I woke in my own bed with fragmented memories of lying on Harlock's floor. My skull ached along with each throb of my heart.

But I didn't dream.

I did run to my sink to puke as soon as I tried to stand, but I hadn't dreamed.

As much as I wanted to avoid Harlock dealing with me drunk a second time, his hand latched onto the collar of my shirt when I tried to sneak out of the liquor storage with an armful of bottles.

"You don't want to drink with me again?" he asked. A hint of a smile tugged at his lips. "Really, I can't have you stealing all my good wine. You at least have to share."

"Ah." I blinked. "Okay."

That night went the same as the first, along with the next night and the next. Miime appeared at times, grabbing a glass or two and playing her harp. Neither one ever spoke to me beyond asking if I wanted another glass. I never remembered stumbling back to my room, but I assumed Harlock kicked me out at some point.

The hangovers never got easier to handle, but they were nothing compared to the dream.

But by the seventh night, my body seemed tired of the alcohol. The sharp, fruity flavor reminded me too much of the acidic tinges left on my tongue every morning after my usual trips to throw up in the sink.

"Do we have anything that's not wine?" I asked after a sip threatened to come back up on me. "Like, something I can take shots of?"

Harlock's brows rose. "You sound like you just aim to get drunk."

Well, I certainly wasn't there for the stimulating conversation. "Just a little tired of wine," I muttered.

This seemed like a foreign concept to Harlock. His brow furrowed, and he could only stare at me for a moment. "Well, I suppose the men keep other things in storage, but I have no ownership over that, so you'd need to ask for permission to take it."

Did that mean all the wine was his?

"The wine will do," I said, hiding a sigh. The next day we would stop to resupply, so I could look into getting something else then.

But my churning stomach refused to accept even one more night of red wine. As I tried to grab the bottle to pour another glass, the world swam too much for my liking. After a blur of colors, I felt the icy floor of Harlock's bathroom against my cheek.

I heaved a sigh at the sharp taste on my tongue. "I threw up, didn't I?"

"You did," said Harlock from somewhere above me.

"Have I done that before?"

"A few times. There are usually more incoherent apologies involved."

I winced. "Sorry."

"It's fine."

But it wasn't. What a strange thing to say. He should have tried to stop me from drinking so much. He should have been annoyed or angry, not so apathetic.

"Captain." I knew I was drunk. I could feel it with each slurred syllable, and I knew I'd remember it in the morning this time. I was coherent enough to stop myself, yet I didn't. "Would you care if I died?"

With my eye closed, the room felt empty as silence held the too-warm air around me. I couldn't place him in the space of the room, as though he wasn't really there. He spoke just as I began to doze. "You know, you've asked me that every night."

My eye shot open, and I turned to find him, sitting on the floor behind me. He leaned back against the cabinets, his gaze somewhere I couldn't reach.

"I did?"

He nodded, his eye turning to meet mine. I found nothing but worry in his stare. "Of course I would care, Yama, but you can't die. Someone needs to take care of your garden."

I had no desire to die, but his words rang hollow to me. If he cared so much, he wouldn't find a replacement for me in a week. He wouldn't pretend like I'd never existed.

I couldn't understand how that boy felt such loyalty toward the ship if no one but a drunk girl considered speaking his name.

"No," I breathed as my eye fell shut. "No, no. Why would you care about me? Why should you?"

"Please, Yama," he said. "We can talk about this."

He didn't seem to understand. Our conversation didn't line up, but I was too drunk to make sense of it. Too confused. Too tired.

Once again, I woke in my bed with a headache. As I washed my face, I tried not to think about the conversation too much, but it ran on an endless loop through my head. I doubted I remembered everything as it actually happened. My drunk mind wasn't the reliable sort.

We landed on a stable mining planet. The locals seemed too eager to trade with us to notice all the Jolly Rodgers on our clothes. Harlock didn't spare me a glance during the excursion, but he was a bit preoccupied by a couple of kids who ran up to him, astounded by how tall he was. The captain glanced between them like a startled rabbit. Considering his usual habit of frightening kids away with his looks, I couldn't help but smile when I saw how helpless he was to their requests. Each wound up on one shoulder for a bit, and he laughed at them, actually laughed.

One of the guys noticed my wide-eyed stare as I stood there with a crate weighting my arms. "The captain loves kids," he said. "Always a big softie around 'em."

I nodded even though I felt I didn't understand. I could hear Kei's slurred speech rolling through my head along with every sob, and I wondered again what the captain cared about. I wondered if he would grieve for me if I died, or if he just said as much for my benefit. Surely he would have told that boy the same thing.

As I dropped my crate into the stack, I noticed Masu waving me over. I'd been told to avoid any requests from Masu for the sake of my health, but any opportunity to quiet the buzzing thoughts in my head sounded good to me, so I hurried her way.

"Ah, looks like you're my victim this round," she said, cracking a wicked grin. "Most of the other boys try to ignore me."

I shrugged. "It's only fair that I pay my dues, I guess."

She rewarded me with a laugh before dragging me off to the kitchen. A mass of boxes lined the counters and floors like a jumbled city. "You'll want to move all the frozen goods to the back," she said. "Then sort them in the freezer. Needs to be done before everything melts, and my old bones don't take too well to all that chill."

I'd hoped for something less mindless, but there was no backing out now. While she dragged around the dry goods, I wore out my arms and legs hauling the cold ones. I'd never set foot in the walk-in freezer before, but the moment I pried open the door, I understood why the other guys wanted to avoid this job.

The cold soaked down through my uniform and skin in an instant, and the whole thing reeked of different foods in a bizarre mixture. Each breath left me as a puff of mist, and it made stepping back out into the kitchen feel like being wrapped in a blanket. I swore the thing felt colder every time I braced myself and tore the door open.

Still, I didn't find it unbearable until my shoulder smashed into the metal door without any give. Confused, I rammed into it again, but it didn't budge. For some reason, the lock was a latch on the outside, so I could only guess Masu forgot about me and locked it. Sorting the fruits took longer than expected, and I had been in there a few minutes, enough to start missing the kitchen's lukewarm temperature.

Either that, or someone was playing a cruel joke.

"Hey!" I snapped, rapping my fist against the door.

The only answer was the chattering of my own teeth.

"Come on," I yelled. "Just open the door."

When my hollering and abuse of the door led me nowhere, I sank to the floor, shivering in a ball. I pulled my arms in from my sleeves, trying to ease the empty, numbing ace from my fingers. Masu had to find me eventually. She'd need someone to yell at when she realized all the food wasn't packed away in storage.

But, fuck, it was cold. I shivered so much my vision vibrated, and I could think of nothing but being warm. It was enough to make me miss being drunk on wine. Being so cold was exhausting. My heart felt like a bird trying to beat its way out of my chest, and I couldn't grasp enough air. I couldn't say how much time passed, maybe minutes, maybe hours. Too long.

At some point, I rested my forehead against my knees. I couldn't say when. I only noticed when my head jerked up at the sound of a voice. "I don't know if this is better or worse," he said.

He stood over me – the boy. In the blue-gray lights of the room, his scars seemed less gruesome than I recalled, but maybe they'd always been that way. I couldn't see through the burn on his cheek, and instead of anger, he appeared resigned, his arms crossed.

"You locked the door," I said, a thick stutter catching every word. Speech felt heavy against my tongue.

He nodded. "Obviously."

"Please let me out." I was too desperate to care about begging. "I'm not dangerous. I'm part of the crew now. I care about them. I'm not a traitor anymore!"

"Don't lie!" he yelled in return. "They can't trust you! You could turn on them again at any time. You're dangerous, so I have to get rid of you." He shook his head as though to throw something off. "I'll keep them safe. I'll protect them. I won't let you hurt my friends!"

I found myself wondering if he might be warm. Maybe I could have leaned against him just to feel something with heat to it. "Please, Daiba," I said, too tired to stand. I could only reach for him instead, though I couldn't feel my fingers.

He stared at my hand as though he'd never seen one in his life. "How do you know my name?"

"That's it, isn't it? You're Tadashi Daiba. And no one will drink for you." I didn't know what I was saying. I felt almost drunk again, but I found no comfort in this exhaustion and dizziness.

"What are you talking about?" he snapped. "How do you know my name?"

Something like a fan cranked to life above us, and the sound of roaring air took over before I could tell him about his crying sister. Daiba's eye shot around the room. "No!" he screamed. "No no no! Stop it!" As I watched, his scars deepened. The hole in his shoulder reappeared, and what was left of his left eye boiled away. He grew frantic, his voice rising to a trill. "You're getting in the way!"

"Of course I am!" someone answered. I blinked, and there he was, standing between us. He was even shorter than Daiba, his back to me. I'd never seen that back before in my life. Now I knew I was losing it. "What sane person wouldn't stop you?" he continued in some sort of familiar accent I couldn't place. "You're killing an innocent person."

"You don't understand," Daiba gasped, his breathing as erratic as mine. He took a step back, shaking his head. He seemed close to tears. I found myself feeling sorry for him. Such a strange thought. It almost made me laugh.

"Look, if you'd just talk to me-" The short guy held out a hand just as I had, but Daiba vanished in another blink, just as he'd appeared. "Damn," the guy sighed. "He's so difficult."

As he glanced back over his shoulder, he gave a start to find me staring back at him. "Yama?" he said. Huge round glasses consumed his face, framed by messy brunet hair. He was the exact picture of the man Harlock kept framed.

"Oh my god," I whispered. "I'm dead."

"No!" he yelled, waving his hands in a frantic effort to stop me. "You're not dead! I mean, I'm pretty sure you're not, but… can you really see me?"

"You're really him. You're actually him. Oh my god. I'm dying."

"No-no! I've got help coming for you. I promise! And I'm turning the temperature in here back up from where he had it." He rubbed the back of his head, still perplexed by my gaze on him. "But um, yeah, I'm Tochiro Oyama. Nice to…meet you?"

Placing my forehead against my knees once again, I heaved a sigh. "I've lost my mind."

Mr. Oyama twittered a laugh. It wasn't a "no."

* * *

 **Well someone has to step in and be the dad since Harlock is just screwing up royally.**


	5. Stoke the Flames

**This chapter is dedicated to the person who sent me a message about it, and I was dumb and forgot to reply. Here you go, stranger.**

* * *

As soon as I heard the lock snap open, I shoved my back into the door. The seal gave way with a hiss, and I found myself lying in the warmest room I'd ever felt. Well, I was certain the temperature of the kitchen hadn't changed, but it was heaven to me.

"Goodness!" Masu squeaked at the sight of me. "What on Earth? Did someone lock you in?"

With my arms still tucked into my shirt, I rolled out of the range of cold air spilling from the freezer. "I'm fine," I said as she stepped out of my way. I knew an explanation would do nothing to ease the concern and confusion on her face.

"I got a buzz to take some drinks out," she said, "but when I got there, they said no one had asked for them." She shook her head with a huff. The men must have gotten quite a lecture for that, though I was certain it wasn't their faults.

"Probably just a prank," I said, but the way she raised a brow and stared me down suggested my lies weren't getting through.

"The amount of time you were in there couldn't have been good for you. No one would be foolish enough to pull a joke like that. You could have lost some fingers. Honestly, you should get the doctor to check you over."

"It's fine, really. It's fine," I sighed. "It was probably an accident." Even if it would convince everyone I wasn't trying to kill myself, I didn't need her telling the whole ship someone onboard wanted me dead. There were still men who held a grudge against me, and I didn't want them becoming suspects.

"After all that's happened to you lately, it's hard to consider that an accident," Masu said, frowning.

My arms and legs felt so stiff they might as well have been cast, and movement made them ache, but I dragged my way to my feet. All I wanted was a warm shower and to curl up in my pajamas under all my blankets. I didn't have the energy for rumors or questions. I didn't have the energy for ghosts either, though it appeared Mr. Oyama vanished as soon as the door opened.

"Look, I don't want to raise any suspicion or anything," I said. "I'll talk to the captain about it later, so let's just keep this between us for now, alright?"

Her brows shot up as she looked me up and down. It was clear she thought I was an idiot. "Fine-fine. Off with you then. I'll get someone else to finish inventory here, but you go see Zero."

I nodded despite having no intentions to visit the doctor. As far as I could tell, I wasn't injured or dying. Once I made it to the showers, I was certain that was the only remedy I needed, though even lukewarm water felt scorching against my iced skin. Once the warmth soaked in, I stood in scalding water until I thought I might overheat. My skin tinged with blotches of red, I padded back to my room, chilled clothes in my arms.

Nightmares be damned, I was ready to pass out for a good few days. As I pulled on a pair of boxers, feeling woozy from the heat, I suddenly found Mr. Oyama standing directly in front of me.

"Shit!" I yelled, nearly falling back in my rush to cover myself.

"Oh!" He broke out into a laugh like a wheezing hyena and slapped his hands over his eyes. "Sorry about that. I forget about things like changing and all that. I'm just stuck in what I died in."

With a sigh, I threw on an oversized shirt and pants. "But you don't look…dead," I said.

He peered through his fingers to ensure I was covered before crossing his arms. His head cocked to the side. "I'm not sure how you want me to look here."

"Well Daiba has so many wounds." I flopped back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling.

"He does?"

"Yeah, all those burns - the ones he got when he died."

Mr. Oyama sat down beside me, his hand on his chin as he became lost in thought. "Is that how you see him?" he asked at length, though he seemed more to question the air than me. Before I could answer, he shook his head. "Why don't you tell me what you know, and I'll do my best to clarify with what I know. At least-" He smiled, "-I'll give you my best guess. Can't say all of this makes much sense to me either."

"So much for sleep," I groaned. "Well, not like I'd get much rest anyway."

I started with the dreams, something he admitted he didn't understand. "Never heard of something like that happening in the last hundred years, but there's a first time for everything. Maybe Daiba's fixation on you or you having the same sleeping space had something to do with it? Dunno, kid. I'm more of a man of science, and ghosts aren't my best subject. Dark matter has a mind of its own and kind of a cruel one at that."

"His 'fixation?'" I echoed. "He wants to kill me."

"He doesn't _want_ to kill you," Mr. Oyama sighed. "He thinks he wants to kill you."

My brows pinched. "Is there a difference?"

"He says it's because you're a traitor, right?"

I nodded.

"That's bullshit. I know that much."

"Then why?" I snapped. That sure smile of his made me bubble with irritation. This was my life we were talking about. Just because he was already dead didn't mean he could think of all this like a joke.

His smile faded as he considered his answer. He seemed reluctant to speak. "Because that kid is fueled by envy and nothing else. He's a sad, scared little kid, and he had a sudden, painful death, and then you appear almost instantly and take his place. That kid has always been a mess of emotions, and you showing up didn't help matters. I was able to rein him in for a while by saying it was for the best. Harlock needed the extra help with everything going on, but Daiba started learning what he could do as a ghost, and your little about-face gave him the perfect excuse to take everything out on you."

I combed my fingers through my wet strands of hair, staring at the ceiling. Back in the freezer, Daiba did look like almost like a little kid throwing a tantrum. Just a kid – a ghost. I'd seen his death enough to know how he suffered, how he'd hung onto hope until his final moments that someone would come to save him.

"Why won't he talk to you?" I asked, trying to recall their interaction in the freezer. "He seems like he avoids you, but…"

"But there's no one else for him to talk to," Mr. Oyama finished for me, answering my unspoken question.

My gut squirmed as I debated questioning the implications of that. I would have expected more ghosts, but it wasn't as though I'd seen more.

"I guess I couldn't say anything he wanted to hear, and acknowledging me forced him to accept that he was dead. He just goes to the cats for comfort, but usually when we cross paths, I see him watching and listening to the crew. He tends to stand there like he could still be part of what's going on." He cocked his head to the side. "I guess he can be in some ways, at least more than I can."

"What?" I couldn't make sense of that around the revelation that a ghost boy had been watching us all this time.

"Right, I guess I should explain. Ah, how should I break this down in a way you could make sense of it?" His head tilted back and forth, rolling his thoughts around. "Well, you know I'm the ship, right? At least, I'm the computer anyway."

I could only stare up at him, my eyes wide.

"Well, I am. I can control basically all the ship's functions on a whim. Think of it like breathing, I guess. You do that without thinking about it. That's me with most of the functions – they just happen. If you want, you can stop breathing or slow it, and I can do that too. I can change things like the life support system if I wanted, not that I would. You can think of things like me turning the ship like you moving your limbs and whatnot. But for me, I see all the things happening on the ship all the time as feedback – rows of numbers, bursts of energy. It's a bit hard to explain."

He gestured to his form with a wave of his hand. "This is different. This lets me actually see what's going on, but it splits my concentration, so I only use it when things are calm. Daiba is like this all the time. He isn't really connected to the ship as far as I'm aware, but while I can only control functions of the ship, he can come into physical contact with things."

An apologetic smile spread across his face. "That's why you keep getting in these situations. I don't always notice when Daiba is messing with something he shouldn't. When a gas valve gets opened, or the temperature of an area drops below normal, that's sort of just background noise for me. That's why it took me so long to get you help. The wires I noticed right away, so I shut off the power to that area for a bit, but things like opening the door or fixing the temperature tend to be low on my priority list. Sorry about that."

I shook my head. "You saved me, so I should really be thanking you. I didn't realize that was what had happened." But his apology reminded me why his voice sounded so familiar. "You were there, weren't you?" I asked. "After I was electrocuted, you were there."

His eyes widened behind those thick glasses. "Wow were you conscious for that? Poor kid."

I nodded. "I couldn't see or anything, but I could hear you, and you patted my head." That felt a bit awkward to say out loud, but it was comforting at the time. Mr. Oyama must have felt awkward about it too because his face twisted with confusion.

"You could…feel that?" He reached toward my shoulder, but his hand slipped through. I felt nothing but a surreal discomfort of seeing his hand phased through me. "I can't make contact with people like Daiba can, and even he can only do that for short periods of time. If you could feel that…" His brow furrowed, worry written clear across his face. "I think it's about time you were honest with Harlock."

That smile returned, still not as genuine as it had been before. I stared back at him, blinking and wondering if he'd lost his mind. "What?" I managed at length.

"You promised Masu you'd talk to him."

"Later," I said.

"It is later."

"I didn't say anything about the truth."

"It was implied."

I wished I could smack him, but instead I stood with a huff of breath. "Fine! But I'm not doing this sober!"

Mr. Oyama shrugged, that brilliant grin splayed across his face. It seemed strange to think that he and the captain had ever been friends, yet at the same time, I couldn't imagine any two people in this world more suited for each other. They were both stubborn idiots.

The looks people gave me as I passed them in the halls suggested Masu ratted me out to everyone. I'd expected nothing less of her. If Harlock knew, I wasn't concerned, and he gave no indication. He just watched me with his brows raised as I snatched the bottle of wine from his desk and chugged it.

"Oh my God," I hissed when I came up for air. "This stuff is awful. I don't know how you drink so much of it."

I continued drinking until my stomach ached. Harlock frowned at me as I slammed the bottle down. I wasn't drunk enough yet, but it would have to do. "God, I don't know where to start," I grumbled.

Mr. Oyama stood near Harlock's chair, still grinning at me. "Let him down easy, kid. You're liable to give the old man a heart attack."

"He doesn't need to be let down easy," I spat. Harlock's eye widened. "What about Daiba?"

"What?" Harlock and Mr. Oyama asked in unison.

I slammed my hands on the desk. "Why didn't you tell me about him?"

The look in Harlock's eye was a warning, the sort of glare he gave me when I made a poor tactical choice. When that happened, I knew to take a step back and rethink things, but I wouldn't back down on this. I locked our eyes, waiting for my answer.

"Kid," Mr. Oyama warned. "You really don't know what you're getting into here."

I didn't care. This had too much to do with me for him to just brush it off. It wasn't until Harlock began to speak that I realized he wouldn't know why it had anything to do with me.

"There was no reason for me to discuss him with you, and I don't owe you any answers on the subject."

"You put me in his room!" I yelled. My thoughts were a mess, and every word that left my mouth felt like the wrong one, but what could I say? I couldn't even begin to explain the ghosts or the dreams. The alcohol might not have been the best decision. I'd hoped it would loosen my tongue, but it seemed to tie it more.

"What is this about, Yama?" His voice was as low as a growl.

I turned heel to pace back and forth in front of the desk. "You're just making things difficult," I said, throwing my hands up.

" _Me_?"

"Yes!"

"Kid," Mr. Oyama sighed. "Just tell him I'm here."

"What do you want me to say? 'Oh by the way, your friend's ghost is standing next to you being a smart-ass.'"

Mr. Oyama shrugged. "That works."

Harlock stared at me, his brow furrowed in confusion. I stared back. My mouth hung open as I tried to find the right words. "There's a ghost trying to kill me," I said. "Also I can see Mr. Oyama's ghost. He's not trying to kill me though. And some cats. The cats are friendly too."

Mr. Oyama snickered. "The alcohol's getting to you, kid."

I probably would have sounded drunk even if I'd been sober. There was no way to reasonably explain this. "Why can't he see you?" I finally asked Mr. Oyama. "Doesn't he talk to you?"

"More to the computer version of me. This me is listening, but I can only respond with flashing lights." He laughed. "Here, tell him I'm not going to give him the notes again if he's late for tactics."

"So you're seeing real ghosts then?" Harlock asked, his words slow as though trying to make sense of it. "Ghosts of members of my crew? And one of them is trying to kill you?"

I heaved a sigh. This couldn't go well. "Mr. Oyama says he won't give you the notes again if you're late for…tactics?" I looked to him for confirmation, and he gave me a thumbs-up.

Harlock nodded, though he didn't seem to comprehend. "He's…he's here? You can speak with him?" He glanced to where Mr. Oyama stood, but his eye focused on nothing.

"Yeah, he's like this tall." I brought my hand up to my chest. "Blue outfit. Big, smug grin on his face. Thickest glasses I've ever seen."

"I've got a bullet wound on my shoulder from where he accidentally shot me once," Mr. Oyama added.

"Apparently he also has a bullet wound in his shoulder too, but I'm not looking at him shirtless, so I'm going to take his word on it. How do you accidentally shoot someone?"

Harlock rubbed his hand over his mouth, paler than I'd ever seen him. "Why can't I see him?" he asked in a whisper.

I looked to Tochiro for answers, but he shrugged. "I'd imagine it has something to do with Daiba because you saw him first."

"It's Daiba's fault," I translated to Harlock. My words were starting to slur.

"What?" Harlock asked, his voice weakening further.

Taking a deep breath, I told my fantastical story for the second time that day. As I told him about the dream, his eye fell to the desk's surface and remained there. His hand covered his mouth, keeping his expression unreadable. I stuck to Daiba's story – that he wanted me dead because I was a traitor. The only detail I left out was the wounds, unsure if Harlock needed to hear about something like that. I didn't even like to think about them.

When I told him about the freezer, my vague recollection of Daiba's words drew a sharp breath from him. "He said something about not knowing if it was better or worse," I'd said. It was then I noticed his shoulders trembling.

"Did you care?" I asked.

"What?" His eye shot to mine, wild with emotions I so rarely saw from him.

"You replaced him with me so quickly, didn't you? You've never spoken about him. Kei said the whole crew acts like he never existed, and I'd never heard a word about him until I saw his ghost."

"Kid," Mr. Oyama warned once again, his voice sharp and serious.

But I had to know the truth. "You said you would care if I died, so why didn't you care about him?"

In a flash, Harlock was on his feet, his hands latched into my collar. Only the tips of my toes brushed the floor, and I was forced to grip his wrists to find stability. "Don't you dare," he hissed. "Don't you ever say I didn't care about him."

"Harlock, put him down," Mr. Oyama squeaked.

"You don't know what I went through. You don't understand." He shook me hard enough to bruise my knees against the side of the desk. "You didn't know him!"

"Why should I believe that?" I spat. "I've still never even heard you say his name."

I thought he might smash my face into the desk as he grit his teeth and snarled. I'd never seen him so visibly angry. Had I been less drunk, less exhausted, I would have known to be terrified. But as things were, I wanted an explanation too much to fear him.

The wild fury in his eye broke with his yell. "I can't!" His face dropped into his hands as his grip loosened. His voice, raw with grief, faded to a whisper. "I can't say it after what I did to him."

"No!" Tochiro snapped. "We've been over this. Tell him it's not his fault."

"What's not?" I asked.

"I knew how dangerous the energy control room was," Harlock said as he placed his palms to the desk to hold him upright. "I knew those pipes weren't in good condition. But he didn't know that. He didn't know the proper way to handle them, and I let him go."

"It was in the middle of a battle," I said. "You had no way to predict what would happen."

Harlock shook his head. "Even Kei knew better. She tried to get me to call him back. We felt the explosion happen, even with all the floors between us, but we didn't know that was what it was. I still tried to tell Kei it was fine. The gauge was starting to drop. He had handled it on his own." His shoulders shook along with his words. "Then I heard his voice through the communicator. The last words he spoke were begging for my help. I tried to go down there to save him- God, I tried, but by the time I pulled him out-"

He sucked in a breath. "My God, those wounds. He must have been in so much pain. But I cared, dammit. I cared. Don't you ever say I didn't. I know it was my fault, but he was so important. I couldn't…I just couldn't…"

"You didn't want to think about him," I said. It sounded more like an accusation than a realization, and perhaps it was. "So you never acknowledged him after he died, and the rest of the crew followed suit. You replaced him with me like it was nothing."

"Replaced?" His head jerked up.

It was cruel to say, but I affirmed my choice with a nod. "That's why he hates me. That's why he wants me dead."

But Harlock shook his head, tears rimming his eye. "You could never replace him, and no one could ever replace you. He was a hotheaded boy who always caused trouble, small and short-tempered." A weak smile twitched on his lips. "But he was smart as anything. He could tell you everything about the stars, and I've never met anyone who loved them more than him. Even after he died, even after I killed him, I kept waiting to find him on the bridge in the middle of the night, sitting in my chair and watching the stars when he couldn't sleep. I suppose when we found you, I finally accepted it. He was gone."

"But he's not," I said.

"He is for me. I can't see him. I can't talk to him."

"Don't give me that," I huffed. "If I can play telephone with you and Mr. Oyama over here-," I cocked my thumb toward him, "we can make it work between you and Daiba. We need to. I don't want to die."

Harlock sank back into his chair with a sigh, his expression worn. "As crazy as all of this sounds, trying to kill you does sound like something he would do when upset. I'm not sure he'll want to listen to me. He never really did, but I can try."

"You have strange taste in crewmen," I said.

Tochiro grinned as Harlock managed a soft smile. "I don't believe anyone has ever accused me of having normal taste in anything. He was trouble, certainly, but so were you. In fact," he sighed, "you're both still trouble."

* * *

 **I can't wait for everything to work out and be fine. Hmm yep. Yeah.**


	6. Ashes to Ashes

Daiba must have known we wanted to talk to him because he vanished. All I saw of him was in the dreams, an assurance that he still existed somewhere on the ship. Mr. Oyama refused to leave me alone, only searching for the kid when I shared a space with Harlock. That was more often than I would have liked. Between the two of them and the dreams, I could feel myself losing my mind.

"He's not going to come out if you're constantly over my shoulder," I muttered as I drummed my fingers along my desk.

Mr. Oyama didn't seem to mind, peering at the new rows of bulbs I'd planted. He seemed just as eager as I was to see them grow into flowers again.

"He'll lose his patience eventually, always does," Mr. Oyama said. "And as long as someone's with you when he pops in, he can't cause too much harm." Strolling through the cart, he went to examine another one with more seedlings. I wished I wasn't starting to grow accustomed to seeing people phase through objects. At this rate I would forget normal people couldn't walk through walls.

"I'd rather we just got this over with," I said. "It would be quicker if we lured him out somehow."

"Considering your track record, I'd bet on you getting injured again."

My lips pressed together as I tried to go back to my work. Harlock had said the same thing to my proposal, and no one was worse at gambling than him. If even Mr. Oyama was making the same bets, I didn't have good odds.

As though summoned by my thoughts, Harlock appeared with the swish of the door. I stood with a sigh before he could speak. "I know-I know. I'm coming." When Harlock showed up, that meant I had to go to a meal, though I tended to lose track of which one.

"No need to take it out on me," he said. "I'm just Masu's lackey here. When you don't show up for meals, she starts asking if you're still alive."

Despite his words, he didn't appear irritated, guilty, or even amused when I turned toward him. He held his arms crossed, his expression even. Still, I could see the hints of exhaustion in his eye. I doubted he'd slept much.

"Do I at least get to drink tonight as a reward for eating?" I asked as I made my way around the shelves.

"I'd prefer you didn't," he answered, as he always did now.

"Oh sure, don't need me drunk now that I've confessed everything." I'd intended it as a joke, but my tone came out sharp and honest.

His gaze shot away from me for an instant. "I admit, I let you drink too much because I aimed to keep an eye on you and hoped I might find out what was troubling you. I didn't want to pressure you into it talking, but… Nothing you said while drunk made much sense anyway, and it just seemed to be making you sick. I think you should take a break from drinking for a bit. Let your body mend."

"He always was bad at this whole talking thing," Mr. Oyama said with a laugh. "I'm sure that logic made sense in his head."

I sighed as I walked past Harlock and out into the hall. "I told you I wasn't trying to kill myself."

"I know, but I wasn't sure what to think, Yama. You wouldn't talk to anyone."

My steps halted, and I spun back on him. "You were asking other people? No wonder Kei knew about the ghosts. You were telling everyone!"

"Not everyone." He rubbed a hand across his forehead, messing his bangs. "I only told Miime and Kei about the ghosts because they pried, and I asked a few others if they'd talked to you or knew anything. We were…not sure what was going on."

"He means he was worried," Mr. Oyama piped in.

"I'm fine!" I snapped. That was obviously a lie, but I had no patience for either of them anymore. Turning heel, I stormed toward the galley. "Let's just go get lunch."

"Dinner," Harlock corrected to my back. "We already had lunch."

I bottled the urge to yell and hit him, wishing he could just stop following me around. Mr. Oyama would leave for now, but he'd be back as soon as Harlock left.

Being around the rest of the crew was no better. I didn't know what Harlock had said to keep them from asking questions, but I could see the curiosity written all over their faces. They didn't know about the ghosts yet, as my suggestion to tell Kei about Daiba was met with hesitation.

"I'm not saying you can't," Harlock had said, his brow furrowed. "But you may want to wait until everything is settled."

"She's a sweet girl," Mr. Oyama added. "Has good intentions, but that never quite worked out when she tried to talk the kid out of something. Always seemed to have the opposite effect. He doesn't like when people tell him not to do something, if you haven't noticed."

If that were true, I wasn't certain how we planned to talk Daiba out of killing me in the first place.

After dinner and dealing with Mr. Oyama a while longer in my greenhouse, I returned to my room for the night. He trailed behind me. "You could let me sleep on my own," I sighed. "Aren't we approaching enemy territory? You might want to keep an eye on that."

"Is this about me seeing you change? Honestly, I'm not even looking."

"No, I'd just prefer to be on my own for a bit. Just a little too introverted for all this attention." In truth, it had more to do with him seeing me experience the nightmare. He said I went from twitching to thrashing, breathing so hard he worried each night that I was hyperventilating. I didn't want for anyone to see me that vulnerable, that scared. So much of the crew already had, and the thought twisted my gut. To them, I either looked like a weak target to someone's attacks or like I was losing my grip on reality and my will to live. Neither option was preferable.

I couldn't take this Hell anymore – not their stares or the dreams. I needed to end it.

"I guess I can leave you be for one night," Mr. Oyama said, though the words seemed to stick on his tongue. "Just take your pill and stay in your room until I come back, alright? And I can't promise I won't check in on you every now and then." As I looked back to him, he crossed his arms with a huff. His hardened eyes challenged me to argue, but I felt certain I could make do with this.

"Thanks, Mr. Oyama," I said with a nod.

With a tentative smile, he rubbed his hand on the back of his head. "Ah, jeez, kid. Tochiro is fine. No need to be formal with ghosts. Get some sleep."

I didn't lie to him, not exactly. I never promised to follow his orders, though I did get _some_ sleep. Not much. I didn't take the pill, so I woke after the explosion. Slapping my hand across my mouth, I silenced a scream before it could escape. I couldn't draw any attention to myself for now. Couldn't risk getting caught.

As much as I longed for a glass of water or a shower, I felt even the pipes might grab Tochiro's attention. As my door slid open, I expected to find someone standing watch on the other side, but the hall stood as black and empty as it had ever been. I heaved a sigh from my chapped lips.

I padded down the hall on bare feet, toward the spot Daiba stood in before electrocuting me. Each breath seemed to tear through my raw throat. Even if I thought calling his name was a good idea, I doubted I could do more than whisper.

He wasn't there, of course. I wasn't sure why I thought he would be. If Tochiro couldn't find him, I had little chance. My only hope was that he would come to me. Keeping my steps light, I headed toward the lift.

Beyond the hum of the ship, I heard nothing. I saw no one. We looked like a proper ghost ship, complete with ghosts hiding somewhere in the darkness.

From the lift, I headed down the main corridor. The ship's humming song grew louder as I neared its heart. Just as I passed the lift to the bridge, I saw him – just a flash ahead of me. It was the green of his uniform and nothing else, the same as when I'd first started seeing him. Raising to my toes, I rushed after him.

But no matter how I ran, I only caught glimpses. The hall rushed by me, the same way it had every night. Darkness had replaced the fires, but even as I followed him, I knew where we were going. I'd followed this path too many times not to know. My feet led me there on their own.

I saw him slip through the door before it finished opening, and I followed. The energy reactor whirred with its work, the room as warm as a standard day on Mars. It was nothing unbearable. All was as it should be.

As I followed him to the control room, I slowed my steps and fought to catch my breath. Each gasp ripped at my lungs. Daiba showed no such signs of exhaustion as I stepped through the door to find him. That hatred burned in his lone eye, his wounds as fresh and grotesque as ever. The pipes whistled behind him.

"Daiba," I sighed as I fought to keep my eye on his. "Please, I just want to talk to you."

"I don't want to talk to you!" he spat. "You don't have anything to say that I want to hear."

Oh, I knew he didn't _want_ to hear it, but he was going to.

"Look, I could help you if you'd let me-"

"Help!?" he roared. "What could you possibly do to help me? I'm dead!" He shook his head in a fury, one hand gripping his face as he clenched his eye shut. "There's nothing you can do! There's nothing anyone can do! The captain couldn't help me. The captain didn't…" His eye shot open as tears poured from it. "It hurts," he gasped. "God, it always hurts. I just want it to stop. I just want to stop burning. It's all your fault! If you just go away, it'll stop!"

I took a retreating step, but my back hit the closed door. Of course I'd walked directly into a trap. That was really all it could have been from the beginning. Daiba would never have led me somewhere with any other intent. I'd known as much, but I wasn't expecting something inescapable, not with Tochiro keeping an eye out for me. I hoped as much anyway.

Glancing down, I checked the keypad for tampering. No lights glared back this round. Somehow, he'd killed the power to it completely, meaning Tochiro wouldn't be able to just flick it open.

The screaming pipes trilled on, louder by the second. I knew that sound too well. I heard it night after night. Daiba cringed against it, trembling as I slipped into the corner of the room. If I could just escape the blast, I had a chance.

But as the temperature spiked, my knees sank away from under me. The edges of my vision blurred with darkness, and I couldn't seem to take a full breath. The air was too heavy. My mouth and throat were raw with the need for water.

I reached a hand out to Daiba, still unsure what I hoped for. "Daiba," I called. My voice cracked under the strain.

If he heard me, he made no sign. The pipes' song rose to an ear-splitting crescendo behind him. I guessed I wouldn't be saved this time. Maybe I'd become a ghost like him. Then he'd be stuck with me. Seemed a bit counter-productive now that I thought about it. I would have told him if I'd had the breath.

There must have been a bang. There must have been, but I only felt the force of the blast, cracking the back of my skull into the wall. My ears rang with a high-pitched whine as I opened my eye to find Daiba clutching his hands over his ears. Fire swarmed around him. It was only a matter of time before it reached me. Only a matter of time before my weak gasps for air wouldn't be enough. The darkness bled across my sight.

My hearing returned the instant something slammed into the door. Daiba's head jerked up, hope flooding his expression.

Someone spat a curse from the other side of the door, sounded like the captain. A moment's pause held the air before he spoke again. "Daiba! Daiba, you're in there, right?" He sounded like he'd sprinted down here, quick gasps between his words.

"Captain!" Despite the tears in his eyes, Daiba's expression lit up with a smile. As the fire licked at his skin, his wounds faded into nothing. Even the burns in his clothes vanished, until he was just a little kid in a pirate costume.

"Please, Daiba, open the door. Let Yama go. Please."

The only true smile I'd ever seen from Daiba cracked and vanished. I'd expected more anger, yet tears poured from his eyes. He took a step back from the door. "Why him?" he whispered. "What about me?"

I needed to tell him everything, about how Kei sobbed and how Harlock tore himself apart. I wanted to apologize for everything that had happened to him, for not being able to tell him sooner.

"I can't lose him too!" Harlock yelled. "Not after I lost you. Not after… I'm sorry! I'm sorry I didn't save you. But please don't take him too."

It felt so easy to let my vision fade to nothing – effortless even. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest despite my slowing breaths. Just as I began to fade, I felt someone's touch against my cheek. I forced my eye open to see him there, a young boy with the messiest blond hair. His huge brown eyes were filled with tears. He was just a child. A scared, lonely child.

With everything I had left, I reached my hand up to rest against his cheek in return. He leaned into my touch with a sigh. Tears clung to his lashes as he closed his eyes. "Don't go to sleep," he breathed.

He vanished, and before my hand could fall, the sprinklers overhead cranked on. The door opened with its usual swish, and Harlock stumbled inside. I couldn't keep my eye open.

"Thank you, Daiba," Harlock sighed from somewhere above me. I felt him put an arm around my shoulders, and then I felt nothing.

In the darkness, I waited for dreams that never came.


	7. Old Flame

**Technically, this is the last chapter, though there's also an epilogue if you're interested. Thank you all for reading! I hope you've enjoyed it.**

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The ship rumbled under my back as though growling. I kept my eye shut, hoping this was part of some dream I could slip back into, but another tremor rippled from my head to my toes. Through my eyelid, I saw a light flicker overhead. It seemed we'd found a fight, or one had found us.

With a slow, deep breath, I tested my body for injury. My head ached with each pulse of my heartbeat, and the old scars from being electrocuted twanged with sparks of pain. Beyond those minor complaints and my parched throat, I felt well enough.

The rickety stretcher prodding at my back assured me I sat in the infirmary, so I opened my eye to confirm it. Save for the groaning of the ship, the room was silent. The only machine hooked up to me was the IV drip feeding my arm. It had to be fluids because my head ached too much for painkillers.

"Oh, you're awake," someone said, half in a whisper.

Rolling my head to the side, I locked eyes with Daiba. He stood beside the medicine cabinets, still turned toward them as though he'd been looking at their contents. No burns marred him or his uniform. His eyes darted off for a moment before he shuffled toward me. "So um…" He breathed a huff. "You feeling okay?"

"I'm alright." I didn't sound like it, my voice raw and cracking. "Just need some water."

He nodded. "I'd get you some, but I'd drop the glass. I can't carry things for very long."

The conversation should have been awkward, and judging by the way Daiba's hands fidgeted, he felt awkward. But I didn't. Maybe I was too tired to bother feeling uncomfortable around him.

"It's fine," I said. "I'll get it."

"Are you sure you should be getting up?" he asked as I sat up. "I don't know if you hurt yourself bad."

I tested my bare feet against the floor before standing. My head beat like a bass drum for a moment, but I felt fine otherwise. "I'm alright, Daiba." I tried to assure him with a smile, but his gaze fell to the floor.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"I forgive you," I answered without hesitation.

His head jerked up, and he looked at me as though I'd slapped him again. "What? Why?"

I shrugged before stepping around him and heading for the sink. "You seem like you feel bad about it, and I'd like to put it behind us. I've known people who've held grudges, and it's hellish being on the receiving end. Besides, I honestly forgive you."

I couldn't be bothered to scavenge for a glass, so I turned on the faucet and stuck my face under it. The rush of water blocked out some of Daiba's rebuttal, though I heard him say something about how he'd tried to kill me, and I should have been angry. Once I finished drinking and had thoroughly soaked my face, I looked back to the flustered boy.

"Why did you give up?" I asked. "You could have killed me back there."

He flinched and took a step back. "I… I didn't want to hurt the captain. He cared about you, so I-"

"He cares about you too, you know."

He still wouldn't look at me, only the floor. His eyes gleamed with fresh tears. "No," he whispered. "I don't matter anymore."

"But you do, Daiba," I sighed. "If you'd seen how upset he got when I mentioned your name, you'd know."

He shook his head, his eyes clenched shut to hold back his tears. "Only because I'm supposed to be gone."

"No, because he misses you. Because he hates himself for not being able to save you. You remember, right? Before you died, you heard the door open, didn't you?"

"What?" he gasped, looking up to me in shock. "How do you know that?"

Before I could sort out a way to explain impossibilities to a ghost, the floor shook under me once more. My stumbling steps weren't enough to catch me, but Daiba did, rushing forward to catch me around the middle. He felt too real to be a ghost. His small form was warm against mine, and he breathed a sigh as he righted me. "Sit down first," he said.

I plopped back down on the bed's edge, and he hopped up at my side. "Is the battle going alright?" I asked.

He waved my worries away. "It's fine. The captain's got it under control."

"Who are we fighting?"

"I dunno. I've been in here watching you since it started. Didn't think you should be left alone."

For someone who'd felt abandoned, Daiba put a great deal of faith in Harlock. But it seemed he'd never blamed Harlock for that, not like Harlock blamed himself.

"Every time I try to sleep, I have a dream," I began. "I'm you in it, looking through your eyes. Everyone's yelling on the bridge during a battle. The ammunition storage gets hit-"

"And then the third cannon breaks," he said, staring at the hands in his lap. "I know that dream. I see it when I close my eyes. When I'm angry, I can see it playing through my head, and I can feel everything again. It hurts." His hands curled into fists. "The wounds all come back."

"So they're only there when you're angry?"

A smile tugged at his lips despite the pain in his eyes. "I'm always angry. It wasn't that bad until all the stuff that happened with you. I hoped they would never find anyone to take my room, but then you showed up, and it hurt, but I knew they needed you. And then there was all that stuff with Gaia and you being a traitor, and I don't know. I was so angry. I didn't know how they could let you stay when I'd been so loyal, and I…I had to die." His tears fell against his hands with gentle tapping sounds.

I couldn't imagine his pain. He'd become invisible to everyone he cared about, with only some cats and a long-dead man to keep him company. Wrapping my arm around him, I led his head to my shoulder. I wanted for him to feel comfort, to be held and assured that he was still cared for. Though I worried he might push me away, he stayed against me.

"I'm so sorry," I sighed. "I saw them – the wounds. I wish I'd known what was going on. I would have been more careful."

"You couldn't have talked me out of anything. I just saw red all the time, and the pain made it worse. Tochiro said he couldn't see the wounds, so I thought I was imagining it. I thought I was going crazy."

I pressed my cheek against his hair. It was smooth and held the familiar smell of my room. He sniffled and breathed. I felt certain I'd find a heartbeat if I pressed my hand to his chest. He couldn't have been dead.

"I wish I could have met you when you were alive." My chest tightened as I said it. "Harlock and Kei miss you so much. I'm sure this ship was much livelier with you here to keep them on their toes. But it's alright because you're still here, and I can help you talk to them again. They won't have to miss you anymore."

"Why would you help me?"

I placed my hand over his, curling my fingers around it. He had such small hands, even in his gloves. All of him was small, so thin and fragile. No wonder he was so angry. He had to find some way to be intimidating.

I breathed a laugh. "I told you I'm not mad. I'm exhausted, but I just don't feel mad. I don't know why you seem to want for me to be. We'll make things work, Daiba."

It seemed the ship had quieted. At some point, my eyes fell shut, and I would have fallen asleep against him had he not spoken. "Did you have that dream when you were asleep just then?" he asked.

"No, I don't usually have it if I get knocked out or drink heavily enough."

He paused for a beat. "Is that why the captain kept carrying you back to your room at night after you'd hang out in his room?"

Again, a moment of silence caught us. "What?" I managed, raising my head. "No, I walked back myself."

"No you didn't," he said without a moment's hesitation. "He carried you on his back. You were wasted. You kept rambling into his shoulder. Sometimes you were crying. I was so jealous," he huffed.

"Oh my God." My hands found my face. "Oh my god, I hope no one saw."

Daiba shrugged. "Miime probably."

"Oh my god."

Tochiro's voice joined in. "What did you do now?"

"I didn't do anything," Daiba grumbled.

Peering between my fingers, I found Tochiro squinting in suspicion at Daiba. Moments later, the door swept open as Harlock strode in. "Yama, you're up," he greeted.

"Hard to sleep through explosions."

The first genuine smile I'd seen from him in a while tugged at his lips. "You slept through the fight yesterday."

I roughed a hand through my hair, wondering how long I could have been out. Maybe Daiba had been there the whole time, waiting for me to wake up. "Mr. Tochiro and Daiba are here," I said.

"Both of them?" Of course, that didn't help Harlock see them, and his eye swept over the room without settling on anything.

"Yeah, they're here," I said. Harlock attempted to follow my gaze toward where Tochiro stood. "Oh, um, sorry about lying to you, Mr. Tochiro."

He folded his arms across his chest, shaking his head. "It was stupid. You're lucky I felt the engine control room going haywire. I was trying to focus all my attentions on fixing it through the computers, so I apologize for not showing up. I didn't want Daiba running off without fixing all the blocks he'd put up. There was only so much I could do with him jamming everything. But I was able to set off Harlock's alarm. Flashed lights on in a trail toward your location."

Harlock continued glancing around, probably trying to figure out if anyone was talking. I guessed he didn't want to talk over his friend.

"Must have been a strange way to wake up, Captain," I said to help him out.

He shook his head, running his hand back through his hair. "I think you're trying harder now to kill me than back when you were an assassin."

Tochiro snickered, so it looked like he wasn't too upset about me lying to him.

"Yeah-yeah, sorry," I said. Daiba was starting to pout, and I worried all this talk of the attempt on my life might make him run off again. "But it's alright now. We've got things sorted out. Daiba, did you want to say anything to Harlock?"

His shoulders scrunched toward his ears, and his chin dropped. I doubted I'd ever seen someone blush such a bright shade of red. "I dunno," he mumbled. "M'sorry."

I couldn't tell if he wanted me to relay that to Harlock, but Harlock stared at me, waiting for something from Daiba. Daiba wrapped his hands around my arm and dropped his forehead to my shoulder. "Tell him I'm gonna protect you now, okay? So he doesn't have to worry."

"Ah, okay." My ears burned like Daiba's skin, warm enough to feel through my shirt.

"What did he say?" Harlock prodded.

"Just- uh, you know, he's missed you and stuff, and we're getting along fine now."

"Weren't you supposed to be an undercover agent?" Tochiro asked. "You're terrible at lying."

Despite the confusion in his face, Harlock accepted my translation. "Well, that's good. I'm glad we'll be able to talk again." He seemed like he expected more, watching me for any signs of further messages from the ghosts.

"He's not mad at you, you know," I said.

"Right, he wouldn't be," he said though a sigh. His smile looked pained. "Daiba, I've never met anyone with more faith in me. I never did anything to deserve your trust, but I've missed having it. I've missed you. And I know I've never been good at showing it, but I do care about you, Daiba. From the moment I found you, I knew I wanted to protect you. I'm sorry I failed you. I'm sorry if I ever made you think I'd forgotten you or that I'd tried to replace you."

Though he didn't let them fall, I could see the tears in Harlock's eye. Daiba's grip on my arm was crushing as his shoulders trembled. If he was crying, he hid it well.

"I could never replace you," Harlock said. "You're too important to me."

A sob escaped Daiba as he gasped for air. He looked up with a blotchy, tear-stained face and sniffled like any watery-eyed child. "Don't tell him I'm crying, okay. I'm not a baby. I'm a man."

I had to chuckle at that. "Right-right, of course."

Tochiro rolled his eyes. "Jeez, kid. There's nothing wrong with crying. Harlock cries plenty. Don't let him fool you."

"What is it?" Harlock asked, his brow furrowed with worry as he examined the spot beside me.

I fought back a grin as Daiba stuck his tongue out at Tochiro. "They're both children," I said.

Daiba gasped in offense, but Harlock's expression eased into a smile. "I'm glad that much hasn't changed. I suppose we'll need to go explain everything to Kei now before she comes to claim my life. My excuses haven't held up well with anyone, and she's very impatient."

"She's going to lecture me," Daiba grumbled, ducking his head to hide behind my shoulder.

"Well, you deserve it," Tochiro said.

"What are they saying?" Harlock asked when I didn't respond once again. He was awfully impatient as well.

"They're saying how they're going to behave and come talk to Kei with us." I looked to each of them, daring them to argue with me or each other.

Daiba gave in despite his mumbling. "Alright, fine. I do owe you an awful lot, so for now, I'll do anything for you. Well, not anything." He rubbed at the bridge of his nose. "But you can always ask."

The offer was tempting, though I couldn't think of anything I really needed from him. "We'll see," I said. "I'm sure there are some things I could use your help with."

For some reason, he smiled at that. I found seeing a smile on his face too nice to ask why. Perhaps, I thought, he was just happy to be part of the crew again, even if I had to be his captain now.

I was happy with that as well, happy to have him on my side. He made quite the enemy. And now I'd have some help getting my plants back in order.

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 **Special thanks to anyone who commented. You're my favorites. So onto the gay epilogue.**


	8. Epilogue

The sky was bluer than forget-me-nots, clouds fluffy and pristine white. I tugged off my boots to feel the grass between my toes, sharp yet soft on the soles of my feet. Flowers covered the hillside around me and stretched off into the infinite landscape. I felt as though I sat in a painting.

The flowers and grass rustled in the breeze, carrying with it a somber, familiar song. I couldn't find its source at first, but then Daiba was there, and he'd always been there, his head resting in my lap. He played an old harmonica, his eyes closed.

I ran my fingers through his hair and listened. I tried to recall where I was or how I'd gotten there, but my mind assured me that these questions didn't matter. Even without the answers, I felt relaxed. It just seemed like the place I was supposed to be.

As the song finished with a low, echoing note, Daiba opened his eyes. He smiled with his eyes full of contentment. "Is it looking better?" he asked. "I've been looking at all your flower books, and I think I'm getting the hang of it?"

"What?" I asked, unable to make sense of him.

His smile widened. "The flowers look nice, don't they?"

I looked out to see a variety of camellias, asters, orchids, and others – largely pinks and purples with splashes of white and red. "They would make for a nice bouquet," I said. "Though I'm surprised to see all of them growing together so well. Some of them require different growing conditions."

A sweetly fragrant red rose appeared under my nose. Daiba held its stem, free of any thorns. "You're so picky," he said.

I took the rose from him, feeling I was missing something. "Where are the thorns?"

He watched the clouds, still smiling. "You always ask that."

Something clicked in my head. He was right. I'd said those exact words many times before, and he always responded the same way. Then I would ask another question, always the same.

"Is this a dream?"

"Always ask that too." He hummed as he stretched his arms toward the sky. "Do you remember now?"

"Yes." A smile settled on my face as I felt the velvet petals of the rose. "You built this one very well. You could have gotten away with letting me think it was real."

He'd started this as a means to make sure neither of us had a nightmare, creating a safe world we could stay in while I slept. I wasn't certain how much concentration it required of him or really how he did it at all.

As he peered through his fingers above him, the sky faded to midnight. A brilliant canvas of stars took the place of the clouds. "Not as fun that way," he said. "Besides, we'd repeat the same conversations. I swear I'll get those flowers right one of these days."

"You say we'd repeat the same conversations like it's a bad thing." I settled my back into the flowers, some of them tickling my ears and cheeks. "But how many times have we gone over the constellations?"

"Well, you don't know them all yet." Pushing himself up, he scooched over to lay his head on my chest instead. I waited for him to begin by pointing out his favorites. I didn't know any of them because they were all specific to the planet he'd grown up on. I couldn't imagine memorizing a night sky like he had, but he did say he didn't understand how I could remember so much about plants.

"So Yama, is this like a date?" he asked.

It wasn't quite what I was expecting. He was a bit too young for me to consider dating, but then again, he would always be too young. He would never age.

He would never have anyone he could date, and I doubted he ever had before.

"Yeah," I breathed, "if you'd like for it to be."

Despite the darkness, I saw his cheeks tinge with color. "I want it to be," he said.

I tried to mind that, tried to be upset, but I only found myself upset I couldn't do more for him. I wished he could have something more real than a field of flowers and a night sky built within a dream. But at least it felt real. When I threaded my fingers through his hair, it felt as real as when we were awake and I'd ruffle it when he pouted about something.

"It's a nice date," I said, still holding an impossible rose without any thorns. "Where would you like to have one next?"

"I dunno. Maybe I'll make us a restaurant next time, or we could go underwater. We'd be able to breathe, you know."

"Sounds nice. Pick whatever you'd like. Any place without constant fighting and explosions sounds good to me."

His usual pout settled on his face. "Aww, I love the fighting and explosions."

"Doesn't really make for a good date."

"I guess."

"Well, if you do consider those part of a good date, we've been dating since we first met."

He tilted his head back so he could look me in the eye as he pouted, but I grinned back at him. He would always be a child, but that was fine. I adored him regardless

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 **Now smooch.**


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